


The Stars Are Fire

by Laylah



Category: The Last Remnant
Genre: Happy Ending, M/M, Post-Canon, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-13
Updated: 2009-11-13
Packaged: 2017-10-02 14:02:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laylah/pseuds/Laylah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He begins to suspect that he couldn't go anywhere in the entire breadth of the world without thinking of Rush.</p><p>[ENDING SPOILERS]</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Stars Are Fire

i.

He can't be in the garden without thinking of Rush. He can't be in Athlum without thinking of Rush. He begins to suspect that he couldn't go anywhere in the entire breadth of the world without thinking of Rush. And he promised they would be all right, promised they'd manage, but sometimes David doesn't know how he'll bear it. He stands in the garden, the air blossom-sweet, and looks up at the stars -- infinitely distant, tiny lights with no warmth to offer. Rush is gone, dissolved somewhere into that distant play of light. David's eyes are dry now, though they feel hot and swollen. His heart aches -- he'd thought that simply a poetic turn of phrase, before this; his parents' deaths, Emma's death, hurt in a wholly different way.

He looks down; the stars are too distant. This longing will cripple him if he cannot master it.

"My lord," Torgal says quietly, from the dark archway of the cloister. David nods, cannot find the will to speak. Torgal steps out into the starlight. The stones of the path crunch under his sandals. "It grows late."

"I know," David says. He has felt the slow settle of the evening's chill into his limbs. "I can't sleep."

"I know," Torgal echoes. "You have barely slept since we left Elysion."

"How can I?" David asks, whirling on his heel to face Torgal's patient, slit-eyed stare. "When I close my eyes I see -- I see --" His voice cracks, and he cannot finish: what he sees is Rush's last, beautiful, trusting smile, at peace with his sacrifice, consumed by the light to give the rest of them a future.

Torgal steps closer, the beads in his hair clicking lightly. "He would not want you to suffer."

David rubs at his eyes. How can he still have tears left? "Must I now live up to his memory as well?"

"My lord," Torgal says. He reaches out and David lets himself be pulled into an embrace, lets himself be warmed by all four of Torgal's arms wrapped around him. "No one blames you for grieving," Torgal murmurs. "He was...an exceptional young man, and you knew that better than any of us. But do not allow your love for the dead to blind you to the needs of the living."

David's breath hitches. "That sounds like a sovani proverb," he mumbles against Torgal's shoulder.

"If more of us bound our lives to mitras', perhaps," Torgal says gently.

"You're...you're right, of course," David says. He swallows hard to clear the lump from his throat. "I'll try to -- to --"

"We cannot replace him," Torgal says, "but we are here for you, my lord. We will aid you in any way we can."

David nods. "I'm grateful," he says. He lets Torgal lead him inside to bed.

ii.

Athlum is doing better than some places -- better than Celepaleis, from the rumors, which seems to please Blocter immensely. Having lost her protector Remnant early means that she is now better accustomed to not relying on them. Still, the adjustment is difficult for everyone; there are hospitals that relied on Remnants to diagnose illnesses, traveling merchants who depended on the power of Remnants to keep them safe along the trade routes, new complications arising nearly as quickly as old ones are resolved. David pours himself into the task of finding other ways to solve their problems. He dispatches Emmy with a message for the scholars of Melphina, offering generous salaries for any skilled physicians willing to make Athlum their home. He puts Blocter in charge of the highway patrols, recruits more soldiers to increase their presence along the roads. It makes the days pass.

Irina sends letters sometimes. She writes about the weather on Eulam, her father's recovery, her own hopes of following in her parents' footsteps as a researcher. David writes back about the training of new recruits, the squabbles in the Congress, the whereabouts of mutual friends. Neither of them mention Rush's name; they don't have to. His absence is inscribed between the lines of every page they write.

A nest of Jhana attempt to blockade the road between Athlum and Elysion. Caedmon arrives with a platoon of Silver Falcons to help Blocter's troops rout them. His lances are steady as ever, even if his ears are swiveled back more often than they used to be.

Emmy brings her squad back escorting three doctors from Melphina, two qsiti and one mitra. The female qsiti is talking about the research potential of a hospital in a city with a more mixed population. The mitra argues with her, possibly just for the sake of form. Emmy looks like her patience is about at its limits.

Athlum was his first love, his first charge, and David cares for her as best he can. He refuses to hear proposals for a monument in Rush's memory; everything he does with his life will be his monument. The raw edges of the pain blunt as the months pass, even if the other side of the bed is still too empty and he wakes often clutching a pillow instead of the warm body he longs for. He is alive. He won't waste that.

iii.

"Very interesting indeed," Pagus is saying to Torgal as they enter the dining room. He has to hop to keep up with Torgal's long strides. "I'm at a loss to explain it."

"It bears investigating," Torgal says.

Emmy, already seated at the table, looks up. "Did something happen?"

Torgal flicks one year; Pagus purses his lips together and slowly, deliberately makes a thoughtful expression. "It may be a false alarm," he says. "It's hard to think of what else it could be."

"Explain yourself," David says, leaning forward in his chair. If there is some threat to Athlum or her people, he will hear of it.

Pagus boosts himself up into his chair. "As you know, the Doctors Sykes left their Remnant tracking system with us after the Conqueror was defeated," he says. "It seemed there would be no further need for it. It has been dormant ever since, of course. But today, it began to register a signal."

David's appetite flees. "_What_?" he says. "How can that be?"

"We do not know," Pagus says gravely.

"The signal originates in Dillmoor," Torgal says. "Since it is within Athlumian territory, we should definitely investigate. I will assemble a squad in the morning and --"

"I'm going with you," David interrupts. It isn't possible and he can't afford to hope -- but neither can he bear to sit at home and allow the others to investigate without him.

"Well, sure!" Blocter says. "We'll all go!"

"Of course we will," Emmy agrees. "For something this important?"

Torgal sighs. "We should be quick," he says. "We don't want to leave the city unprotected any longer than we have to."

David bows his head. "Thank you all," he says.

It won't be...what he's hoping for. He's prepared for that. But his generals care enough to support him in his fruitless search, and he can count that, at least, as a blessing.

iv.

It's something of a relief to be out in the field once more, the sun on his face and a sword in his hand. He hadn't realized how much he missed it until now, and even if they would have to range considerably further afield to find a real challenge, David is still happy enough for the chance to fight. They enter from the south end of the valley and scout carefully as they go, clearing away the divain packs and the hulking raptors that have the poor judgment to mistake them for prey. They reach the top of the first ridge without any sign of an errant Remnant, and David looks across the bridge -- there's a wyvern on the far side, and perhaps that will give them a bit of a challenge --

No. It's already engaged a foe, what looks like a single man, dark-haired and fair-skinned -- and blocking the swipe of the wyvern's beak with crossed sword and axe, when David has only ever known one person to choose his weapons with such cavalier disregard for balance.

He bolts, ignoring the shouts of his generals, pelting across the bridge toward the battle. The wyvern doesn't notice him coming, its attention focused on the mitra in front of it. David skids to a halt within invoking distance and gathers a charge inside himself. He thrusts the bolt forward, channeling it through his blade, and the spell catches the wyvern unawares. It rears back, shrieking.

"Hey, _nice_!" calls a voice David thought he'd never hear again. His heart leaps, and he readies himself for another attack.

This time the wyvern knows he's there, and when he lunges in for a cross slice, it retaliates with the sweep of its claws. He staggers under its blow, but he's faced sterner foes than this. Blood runs freely from its foreleg where he struck it, and one of its tattered wings hangs limp from the blows of an axe.

In the next moment Torgal arrives, stepping into the battle at David's left, his matched bluesteel swords flashing as he carves away at their foe. The others cannot be far behind.

The wyvern targets him again, screaming, pain-maddened, and David grunts at the pain. It can't last much longer, though, not with the rest of his generals entering the fray -- the shearing gust of wind that savages its other wing is probably Pagus's doing, and the others will be in blade reach before it can attack again.

"Take care of yourself, okay?" Rush calls, and the cool blue comfort of healing arts washes over David's skin.

"My thanks," he calls back, smiling, already giddy with relief. He motions his generals forward, and they strike in practiced rhythm, each stepping in to follow on the heels of the last without giving the wyvern a chance to recover its balance and counter them: Emmy's moulinet, Pagus's flash arrow, Torgal's four winds, Blocter's brutal delta strike, and then David sees his chance as the wyvern tosses his head -- he lunges, sweeps his blade through a double strike, and the wyvern crumples, falls to the earth with a shudder and a crash.

David turns away from it before the carcass has even stilled, watching Rush sheath his unorthodox pair of weapons. "You're really here," he says.

Rush beams at him. "Man, am I glad to see you," he says. "I thought I was going to have to -- oof." He staggers as David grabs him and hauls him into an embrace. "Hi," he says. His hands splay warm and solid across David's back.

"Rush," David says. He knows his generals are there, waiting, watching, but he can't make himself put a respectable distance between them. "I missed you so much."

"Sorry it took me so long," Rush says, as if he's merely late for a planned rendezvous instead of returning from the dead. "It was pretty tricky to figure out how to get back."

"I don't mind the wait," David says. It's worth it; it would have been worth so much more. "I wasn't expecting -- I didn't think I'd see you again."

Rush laughs. "Come on," he says. "My family's here. _You're_ here." His arms tighten. "You know, I promised Torgal that I'd stay by your side after we got everything settled." He pulls back enough to look David in the eyes. "I want to keep that promise."

"I would be honored," David says hoarsely. "You're -- you're welcome to stay with me for as long as I live. If you want to."

Rush smiles that same open-hearted smile he had the last time David saw him, but this time he's not going anywhere. "I do," he says, and leans in for a kiss that's slow and deep and full of promise.

Torgal coughs; Blocter whoops; Emmy cheers. Pagus is probably smiling. For the moment, David ignores them all.

_Doubt thou the stars are fire;  
Doubt that the sun doth move;   
Doubt truth to be a liar;  
But never doubt I love._

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Swayed to Music](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8030) by [Laylah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laylah/pseuds/Laylah)




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